Confessions
by MadMar
Summary: I could not lie to him—or myself—any longer. I didn’t know what repercussions my honesty would have.' Nadir makes a confession to Erik in the last weeks of his friend's life. Erik/Nadir. Slash. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux is the original creator and Susan Kay elaborated on the Persian enough for this story to be possible.

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"How long is this going to last, Nadir?"

Erik's mournful voice broke the weighty silence and I turned to see him just as he joined me on my balcony. I quickly looked out to the Jardin des Tulleries again and exhaled slowly. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. Not today. Not now.

"How long is _what_ going to last?" I asked as innocently as I could.

There was no lying to the man. I heard him sigh and felt him slowly approach me. The air around him was always a touch colder than the rest of the atmosphere. Always that chill of death that accompanied him, I was used to it, but now I took no comfort in the familiarity.

"Don't pretend you don't know," he said briskly.

His voice was just as cold as he was and I winced under its harshness. Guilt betrayed me around the mouth and eyes as I cast him a meaningful glance. The look, though, was quickly lost as I folded my arms in protective self defense. Still, I shifted uncomfortably.

"I simply want to know that you are all right. Nothing more Erik, I swear—"

"You're holding me prisoner in your flat, Daroga! It's what you did best in Persia, isn't it? It was your _job_ to keep vagrants and criminals off the streets. Well, you have no jurisdiction here!" Then, quieter, he added, "I'm no longer a danger anyhow."

I had to admit to being taken aback. Did he honestly think that was why I kept him here after Miss Daae fled the country? I knew he wouldn't go after her. Erik was not a sentimental fool. But I was.

"You're dying, Erik," my eyes and voice softened. "You said so yourself."

He paused and then gave a fluttering hand gesture of dismissal. He turned his gaze to the Parisian skyline, but didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. I wished, as I so often did, that I could know what was going through his mind at that moment.

"We both said things we didn't mean last night. Or, rather, I should hope that after so long a friendship as ours you don't think me a monster."

I bristled. "I called you a liar and a murderer, but not a monster,"

"Two nights ago, then," he said simply.

He looked at me with those mismatched eyes and I knew my words had cut him. That, I regretted and I could scarcely deny what I said. I bit my lip and took comfort in gazing at the gardens again.

"I was angry, Erik, and I misspoke. I'm sorry."

He said nothing and I couldn't help but to look back at him. The mask covered his wretched face, but I could see tears shining in his eyes. Maybe it was a trick of the evening light. But the mask's fabric betrayed a twisting of the mouth, perhaps of irony or despair. He may have been smiling for all I knew. I did hear him draw a shuddering, rattling breath.

"No… You did not misspeak… Nadir, I am a monster… A hideous, pitiable, and unlovable creature…"

For all Christine Daae had ruined him, for all he ached, and for all I wanted to assure him that he was not a monster, I couldn't bite my tongue.

"And a liar," I said ruefully, my voice shockingly bitter.

He shot me a withering look. My heart twisted in my chest. I inhaled sharply and looked up at him.

"You aren't unlovable," I amended awkwardly.

"Reza loved _you_, Nadir, I was a friend to your boy, but even I'm not so hopeful or delusional—"

"I didn't mean Reza," I said. "Though you dishonor my child if you think he didn't love you."

"Christine Daae, perhaps, then?" He asked, his tone scathing and tender at the same time. "She loved… loves… The Vicomte de Chagny."

"I did not mean Miss Daae, Erik."

Erik made a strangled sort of snorting sound I'd come to associate with skepticism.

"Then whom? Even my poor mother didn't… Couldn't…" He stopped and those bewitching and curious eyes widened as though he'd had an epiphany of sorts. "Surely you aren't suggesting that _you_ love me?"

I bit my lip and met Erik's eyes steadily. A small nod was my only indication of an answer. I could not lie to him—or myself—any longer. I had been doing it for years now and the Miss Daae affair had only made my love for him a painful time bomb. It had only been a matter of time before I was forced to confess. But, had I been able to pick a time and a place, I would not have picked now. Now, so soon after Erik's heart had been thoroughly crushed. At any other time, I might know what to expect, but now, I didn't know what repercussions my honesty would have.

But I didn't expect Erik to laugh.

"I'm… Sorry, Nadir…" he said between fits of high pitched snickers. "Very, terribly sorry… I think… I think I left you in my little mirror room for too long… If I'm not mistaken, I thought for a moment you suggested that you love me? How absurd!"

My face burned with shame and embarrassment. I wanted to die, right then and there, and escape the mockery in Erik's voice. And yet, I drew myself to my full height, unimpressive though it was. I searched his eyes. There, I saw skepticism, yes, but also reservation and… something I couldn't place that prompted me to continue.

"Absurd?" I hissed.

My voice did not sound like my own. I heard pent up woundedness, passion, fervor… Emotions I seldom acted upon. Certainly they were raw emotions I typically never would have expressed. I was a reserved man by nature and Erik knew that. He took a tentative step backwards as I approached him slowly.

"What's so absurd? That despite the wrongs that you've done me, you, you insufferable and wretched man, are the only living thing on this earth that I love? Or that you've never noticed after all these years? Or perhaps it is most absurd that I've waited until _now_ as you're dying of love for an unworthy little girl to tell you? Which is it, Erik?"

Erik was silent for a moment and he shrugged simply his wide eyes serene and calculating at the same time.

"You never pursued me," he said flatly. "Besides, your precious litany of absurdities leaves something to be desired. What of your numerous concubines in Persia? What of your late wife? And don't pretend you haven't taken up with a dancer or two since coming to Paris!"

He was sneering beneath that mask. I didn't have to see his face to know that. I, too, was scowling angrily.

"Concubines? Mistresses?" I spat disbelievingly. "Is that what you think love is? As for Rookheeya…" My voice broke and I cast my eyes downwards. "Erik, I beg you not to make comparisons."

"Consider this for a moment if you will. Perhaps I've always known how in love with me you were," he said softly after a moment.

I looked up questioningly, a fleeting look of hope crossed my features.

"Perhaps I never mentioned it because I simply could not and did not reciprocate your feelings. Perhaps I didn't want to hurt you."

Well, there was never a more effective way to break a heart than that. Tears stung my eyes and I felt like retching. Erik had been my dearest friend only moments ago, and now that friendship was shattered, hanging brokenly between us.

"Get out of my house," I said dumbly. I wanted to snap at him, to shout, to pound my fists against his chest in anger. Instead, my words were slow, hardly intelligible. "I cannot even bear to look at you."

I instantly regretted my words. He looked me in the eyes.

"Ah, I thought that might be it."

If his tone had been mournful before, it was agonizing now. I saw wet, dark tearstains against the fabric of his mask. Perhaps there were other effective ways of breaking a heart. He took a few hurried steps towards my parlor.

"For the love of…! Erik, I misspoke!"

"Don't you always?" Erik drawled, turning around to face me. "Should I see myself to the door?"

I nodded meekly, taking a few mechanical steps inside with him and he brushed past me on his way out. My knees were weak and trembling, but I was still standing. He cast me one last, cocky look. It was almost too much for me to bear as I met his eyes. But the look there was unmistakable. He was not finished with me just yet.

"I love you, too, you asinine, Persian dolt."

Without another word, he swept out the door. I smiled slowly, my eyes shining with tears, and picked up my Astrakhan cap before doing what I've always done. I followed Erik with mingled trepidation and love… and a sigh of exasperation.

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A/N: This was my first attempt at Erik/Nadir (or any slash fic). I'll probably pick back up on my Erik/Meg stuff in addition to sporadic E/N one-shots. Reviews are much appreciated; flames are not.


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